I Know What I Like
by onecelestialbeing
Summary: Written for Amaya2278. Hermione learns that she should be careful when it comes to tangling with a Slytherin. Brief mentions of Dramione and Drarry if you squint your eyes.


**_A/N: Yep, soooo...F/F if you haven't figured it out, and like I said, a little mention of Dramione and Drarry. Just a bit of something that popped into my head for a friend that wanted some Hermione/Pansy action. Not canon at all, but what I hope is a fun read nonetheless._**

* * *

_Oh, damn,_ Hermione thought, ducking her head and grabbing the hem of her dress while making sure to not spill her glass of Champagne. Darting away as smoothly as she could on her spindly high heels, she ducked out of the set of lavishly curtained double doors, stepping out into the brisk night air and finding herself on a balcony. Listening to the muted sounds of music still playing in the ballroom, Hermione inhaled deeply, now feeling much more relaxed.

"Came out here to hide too, Granger?" a snooty voice asked from across the wide space.

Hermione turned her to head to find none other than Pansy Parkinson leaning over the white marble balustrade surrounding the length of the balcony, peering down at a pair of albino peacocks that were strutting about the garden.

The dark-haired witch was no longer the simpering, fawning Slytherin that once clung to Draco Malfoy's side like Devil's Snare. She had grown into her looks and carried herself with slightly less snarky attitude, to the point where it wasn't completely unpleasant to hold a conversation with her.

Draco had insisted that Hermione come to his parents' ball, explaining that he would be bored stiff and that they'd better show up or else. Harry had laughed, but refused to get in the way of his boyfriend's threats, but he did tell Hermione that he hoped she would attend.

The ball started off without a hitch, but it was obvious that Draco was tired of being forced to make small talk with witches and wizards that he didn't know, some of them so elderly that they kept calling him 'Lucius'. One even called him by his grandfather's name, and that had been enough for Narcissa to hurry over and rescue her son. After that, Draco and Harry had left the ballroom, most likely to go snog in some hidden corner of Malfoy Manor.

Hermione and Pansy had been left to their own devices, only Pansy kept being dragged off by her father, and Hermione had to fend for herself. It wouldn't have been so bad if she had someone else to talk to, but Ron and the rest of her friends had other plans that night.

After Hermione had grown tired of ducking unwanted attention from leering wizards clad in dress robes that looked as if they cost as much as the chandelier that was hanging in the ballroom, she began looking around for Pansy, growing perturbed when she was nowhere to be found. She had just grabbed a glass of Champagne out of sheer boredom when Mister Drunken Monocle, as she dubbed one particular wizened man that kept seeking her out, found Hermione through the throngs of party-goers and began making his way in her direction. She'd ducked and fled, her first out being the double set of doors across the ballroom, and that was where she found a forlorn-looking Pansy.

Pansy's dark hair was presently coiffed perfectly into curls that hung to her shoulder, exposing a glittering diamond necklace and matching earrings. Surprisingly enough, she wore a Muggle-style deep purple ballroom gown that hugged her shapely figure like a second skin.

Hermione, not to be outdone, was clad in a deep rose bias-cut satin affair that skimmed her collarbones, exposing a delicate gold chain with a ruby pendant hanging from the centre. Just that once she had conceded and allowed Mrs Malfoy's hairdresser to straighten her hair into loose waves, who had then pinned some of them up and left the rest cascading down her back.

Six years after everything that happened at Hogwarts, Harry and Draco had begun dating. Hermione was happily unattached, and found herself at Malfoy Manor with her friends more often than not. She didn't have much to complain about; everyone got along, and Draco surprisingly turned out to have a sadistic yet hysterical sense of humor that had on more than one occasion made Hermione choke on her her beverage of choice at the moment, which was usually something outrageously expensive that came from the Malfoys' cellar. Pansy was also often along, and no one minded. She too, turned out to have that same dry sense of humor as Draco, which usually led to many amusing evenings.

"Who said I was hiding?" Hermione asked, stepping out of her painful high heels and sighing when her feet touched the cool marble floor.

"I know you are, because you have the same look on your face that I did when I ran out here," Pansy replied with a chuckle.

Hermione laughed in spite of herself. She had been pretty desperate to get away from the well-dressed, elderly gentleman that kept dropping his monocle and had been in danger of spilling his drink whenever he moved. The wizard, who Hermione vaguely remembered had the last name of Riley, was an old friend of the Malfoys', and obviously had his designs set on the younger witch. Ever since the start of the ball, Hermione had been politely avoiding the man's attention, finally growing short when he stuck out one beefy hand and tried to paw at her breasts.

"I'm hiding from that dirty old wizard that keeps trying to touch me," Hermione said. "What's your excuse?"

"Mr Wiley is harmless," Pansy replied, still staring down at the peacocks.

_Riley, Wiley, whatever_, Hermione thought. _So long as he leaves me the hell alone!_

"I'm hiding because my dear, sweet father is out there, and keeps trying to pair me off with wizards that I wouldn't so much as have a cup of tea with, never mind allowing them to court me. He's _so_ disappointed that his only daughter is twenty-four and not yet married. "

"Oh," Hermione replied, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

Only a few people knew that Pansy's tastes ran to the side of witches, and it wasn't as if she had tried to hide that from her parents, but they would hear no parts of it. There had been countless times where Pansy came to visit with Draco, as they'd remained friends after school, purely to keep her parents off her back. The only reason she had pushed herself so hard on him back at Hogwarts was because her parents knew that Draco Malfoy came from what they seemed a suitable background, and no doubt they had plans for the two to be married straightaway out of school.

"I guess it means nothing that I don't want to get married and make babies. To hell with what Pansy wants; if you listen to my parents, you'd think my head is full of sawdust," Pansy droned on. "But I don't care what they think. I like my life, I'm happy. I don't have to worry about anything and I definitely don't want a hoard of screaming, squirming babies."

Hermione politely listened to the brunette witch prattle on, walking next to her and stopping by the balustrade. "Then good for you," she told her. "You only have one life; might as well make yourself happy."

"You know, I used to envy you," Pansy confessed, turning her head to smirk at Hermione. "You always had your books and friends that liked you for you. You were already headed in the right direction, where my parents weren't sure if I would even pass my classes."

"I'm sure that's not true," Hermione consoled.

"Oh no, it's true," Pansy replied dismissively. "I passed them anyway, wiped that little smirk off their faces as well. But enough of my pity party, why the hell aren't you here with a date? What happened to that bloke from work?"

"Oh, damn, don't remind me," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

Hermione was employed at the Ministry, and a colleague that worked in another department made it clear that he fancied her. Peter was nice enough, even if whenever Hermione heard his name she couldn't help but thinking of Ron's old rat. But there was something about him that somewhat put her off. Still, she'd gone out with him a few times, but on the last date, Hermione decided that she had enough when Peter began getting too free with his hands. She threatened to hex his fingers together, and left him standing right in front of the restaurant, declaring that their date was over, and there would never be another one. "He was a right annoying git, that's what. I should have listened to Draco when he told me to leave that idiot alone. Now I have to see him at work, damn it."

"I told you too, but you never listen," Pansy added, slyly peeking over at Hermione. She'd visited Hermione at work one day, and Peter slid by her desk, pretending that he was on the way somewhere else, even though his office was clear on the other side of the building. With all of her Slytherin wit, Pansy had easily deciphered the wizard's intentions, picking up that he was a bona fide creep who wanted nothing more than to get into her friend's knickers.

"Whatever, Peony," Hermione teased, using the nickname that Draco had once given her. "Let's get a drink and sneak the hell out of here. These damned shoes are killing me and I want to take off this dress."Pansy's dark eyes flashed suggestively at Hermione, at mention of taking her clothes off. "Yes, I know, you're going to _ravish_ me," she jested. "But can we leave, please?"

"Ugh, fine. Let's just find Draco first; I don't want him to think that we're hiding from him."

The two girls peeked around the ballroom, all the while making sure to avoid Wiley and Mr Parkinson. Draco and Harry were on the way back into the ballroom when Hermione and Pansy caught sight of them, both grabbing flutes of Champagne and hurriedly saying their goodbyes.

"Wait, wait, ow!" Pansy fussed, draining her glass and setting it down on an ornate marble side table in the vast hallway, bending to take off her own shoes. Hermione had never put hers back on, resorting to carrying them in her left hand. "So where are we going, anyway? I definitely don't feel like going back home, so you'd better figure something out."

"Pipe down, Peony," Hermione chided, finishing her own flute and placing it beside Pansy's. "We'll go to my house, so long as you quit your damned complaining."

"Shut up, Granger. Just Apparate us the hell out of here, will you?"

Hermione nudged Pansy in her satin covered side, grabbing hold of her arm and the two disappeared with a _pop._

* * *

"I wonder if there's some law against drinking and Apparating," Hermione chortled once they landed inside her house.

"Dunno, but if anyone should know, it's you," Pansy retorted, flopping down onto Hermione's leather sofa and looking around at the overstuffed bookshelves. She was giddy from her last glass of Champagne, all the while smiling for any given reason.

"Whatever," Hermione replied absentmindedly. "Are you going to stay on that sofa while I go change my clothes, or do I need to drag you with me? Because if you fall on your drunken arse and crack your head open, you'll have to find your own way to St Mungos."

"Oh, piss off, Hermione," Pansy lilted, pulling her feet up on the sofa and looking the picture of ease as she stretched out in her purple satin. "Just hurry the hell up, else I'll come in after you."

Hermione smirked at the suggestive comment, although she did hurriedly change out of her dress and into a vest top and soft pajama bottoms. When she returned to her front room, she found Pansy also in different clothes.

"Shrinking Charm?" Hermione asked, gesturing to the witch's more casual attire.

"You don't think you're the only one that knows about things," Pansy smirked, patting her little handbag as the curly-haired witch sat down next to her. "I love my dress; Daddy bought it for me, said that it would attract the finest of wizards. All it attracted was an opportunity for me to have to threaten those old perverts."

Hermione fought her best to not laugh but was unsuccessful, snickering into her palm. "You really are an idiot. I don't know why you just don't tell your father to leave you be."

Pansy scoffed, rolling her eyes and casting a derisive glance at Hermione. "That's not the way it works in the Parkinson household; my dearest Daddy thinks he knows everything."

"Well..." Hermione trailed off, not knowing what to say to that.

"Maybe I should tell him that I'm holding out for an annoying Gryffindor I went to school with," Pansy continued in a somewhat teasing voice. "Maybe he'd disinherit me and I wouldn't have to deal with his archaic ideas."

"Yes, I'm sure," Hermione retorted before frowning at her friend, registering the last bit of her sentence. "Pansy, don't you have that man coming to my house and blasting my door off its hinges. I'll kick your arse from here all the way to Scotland."

"I said Gryffindor; I didn't say witch or wizard," Pansy shot back, although she was laughing at the pinched expression on Hermione's face. "As if that would happen. You lot are too damned honorable for my tastes. No sense of-"

"Immorality? Indecency?" Hermione helpfully offered, causing Pansy to reach over and yank on her hair.

"Be quiet, Granger, before I stuff your mouth with something and make you quiet."

Hermione rolled her eyes, smirking at Pansy. The two always bantered like so; if it wasn't jokes about their respective houses from Hogwarts, then it was always some sexual innuendo. Hermione was pretty sure that someone was going to think that the two were sleeping together, but she really didn't give a damn. In fact, she'd been grateful to Pansy one day, as the two girls along with Draco, Harry, Ron, and Ginny had gone to a Muggle pub in London.

Hermione had worried that they were going to have trouble, but the usually snob Slytherin witch and wizard took to the pub like a fish to water. The boys had put away so much ale that they made repeated trips to the loo, and Pansy cackled, telling Hermione and Ginny that they were like a group of girls, going to the toilet with one another, and perhaps they had to help fix one another's hair and break out a secret stash of tampons.

Ginny and Hermione laughed so hard that they hadn't noticed a tall, belligerent-looking and clearly inebriated dark-haired man sidling up to their table. He obviously had one drink too many, as he'd begun trying to simultaneously chat up all three witches. When he refused to be swayed, Pansy told him in her own forthright way to 'piss off, these birds are already spoken for'. When the man asked by who, she smirked and said by her. Pansy had been sitting in the middle of the booth, and used that opportunity to slide her arms around both Ginny and Hermione's shoulders, pulling them closer.

It almost looked as if the man had been about to say something nasty, but instead he broke into a wide grin and called Pansy a 'lucky bitch' before slipping off, most likely to go harass some other poor, unsuspecting woman.

Five minutes later, they saw the same man trying to chat up the wrong woman, as her boyfriend or husband had been standing right behind her. After a large mug of ale had been poured over his head, two burly bouncers cheerfully tossed him out of the bar and onto his arse on the sidewalk.

By that time Draco, Ron, and Harry had returned to the table, and were trying to figure out why their friends were laughing uproariously whilst looking at the door of the pub.

"Oh, shut up, Pansy," Hermione retorted. "Or I'll go find your tall bloke from pub and tell him to stuff your mouth."

"Would you like me to vomit all over your coffee table?" Pansy asked sweetly. "Perhaps I'll aim right at that pile of books."

"And perhaps you'll return home with your hair still on your head."

Pansy took that opportunity to lean over and grasp a handful of Hermione's curls, laughing when the witch scowled at her.

"What happened, did you have too much to drink, Peony? Let go of my damned hair."

"No," Pansy chuckled, scooting closer to Hermione. "How the hell do you deal with this mop?" she asked, loosening her hold yet appraising each wild strand of curls that were now looped around her knuckles. "Can you even get a comb through this?"

"Yes, you idiot," Hermione shot back. "I comb my hair in the shower when I have crème rinse in, if you must know. No different than the way you comb your hair."

"I beg to differ," Pansy said, shifting her weight to kneel upright against Hermione, her hand still buried in her hair, apologizing when Hermione cursed at her when Pansy tugged on the trapped strands. "No, really, there must be a spell or some potion to help you sort this mess out."

Hermione sat stiffly on her sofa, silently allowing Pansy to examine her hair while simultaneously berating it. Pansy's breasts were pressed against her arm, and if she shifted any more on the sofa, she'd have been sitting in Hermione's lap.

"Usually I get taken to dinner before allowing such liberties."

"Hmm, perhaps later," Pansy dismissed, her slender fingers still digging through and prying Hermione's curls apart. "Besides, I never like having sex on a full stomach."

"Oh, is that right? A bit presumptuous, aren't we?" Hermione scoffed, although she refused to admit that Pansy's fingers did feel good against her scalp.

"No, just very sure of myself," the dark-haired witch replied, slithering down to Hermione's side. "Although, you look like you could use a bit of release. You're so damned uptight, well, sometimes. One way or another, we'll get that stick out of your arse."

Ever since finding out that one of her best friends was gay, Hermione had wondered what it would be like if she slept with someone of the same sex. Then Pansy just happened to tell her that she liked witches, and her imagination went into overdrive. Hermione vowed that she would never actually come out and tell Pansy about her little secret, but had been damn tempted to whenever the girl openly flirted with her. But if the opportunity ever arose... Hermione figured, why not go for it?

She then pretended to glower at Pansy before a smug look crossed her features. "And whose going to make me relaxed-you?"

Pansy returned Hermione's smug look with one of her own. "Maybe," she loftily replied, moving off the sofa and onto the floor. Pansy definitely had a thing for going down on other girls, even if some weren't inclined to return the favor. But she definitely had been curious about the way Hermione would act if she had her face buried in her snatch. So she was surprised when Hermione allowed her to slip her pajama bottoms and knickers off, her thighs spread with her bum at the edge of the sofa.

The half-naked witch stared down at her, although Pansy was barely focused on Hermione's face. It had been awhile since she'd been intimate with another, and the prospect of being able to do what she liked best had her dark brown eyes glued to the almost bare V between Hermione's legs. Her friend definitely had a pretty pussy; a neat triangle of hair atop her cleft, leading down to flushed clitoris that already peeking from beneath its hood, and a tightly-clenched pink slit.

Hermione lay back on her couch, aroused yet in disbelief that she was half naked and about to let Pansy have a go at her. The dark-haired witch had the nerve to smirk at her before bowing her head, planting her hot, open mouth against her cunt. Hermione had been a bit anxious at first, then aroused at the prospect of a hands-free orgasm. Pansy's touch was soft; much softer than a male's, and the feel of long hair brushing against her inner thighs was different. But when Pansy's tongue touched everywhere but her clit, even after Hermione kept moving her hips around to direct her upwards, she fumbled on the sofa, scooting back and sitting up.

"What?" Pansy asked, raising her head from between Hermione's legs.

"Pansy...what the hell are you doing?"

"What do you mean, 'what am I doing'? Isn't it obvious?"

"Pansy...now don't take any offense to this, but Draco's gay and he knew his way around my bits better than you did." Hermione was loathe to think about that single incident, considering that the blond wizard was now with her best friend, but she wasn't lying. Their tryst happened nearly two years after school. Draco and Harry weren't dating at that point, yet Hermione had formed an odd friendship with the blond. One minute they were in his suite at Malfoy Manor, talking about something that she couldn't remember, the next they were both naked and in his bed.

Draco seemed a bit awkward once their clothes were shed, although she remembered that he had initiated the whole thing. Hermione had been too hot and bothered to protest, and figured that a bit of no-strings attached sex was just the thing she needed at the moment. Surprisingly, Draco proved to be quite skilled with his mouth when it came to kissing, as well as using it on other areas of her body. To top it all, he was well endowed in the trouser department. Therefore when a year later he told her that he was gay, they both shared a laugh, especially when Hermione remembered the way he'd made her come with absurd ease. Then when a year after that, he began dating Harry-who knew about Draco and Hermione's one-off- Hermione told Harry that he was a lucky bastard and left it at that.

Which is why she couldn't figure out that Pansy-who owned a vagina-was having such trouble with figuring out her way around one.

Pansy was still kneeling down, looking a bit sulky."Does that mean you want me to call him over?" came the sarcastic remark.

Hermione impatiently huffed, standing up on the sofa and pulling Pansy up off her knees."Oh-shut up and sit down. Now I'm only going to do this once, and only because this was _your_ idea." With that, Hermione made Pansy take off her knickers and switch positions with her, soon kneeling between her splayed thighs.

"I didn't know you also fancied witches," Pansy cackled, looking completely at ease with her bits being completely exposed to Hermione.

"Well, typically I don't, you dafty, but seeing as you view oral sex like in some horrid Muggle adult film, you need a refresher course," Hermione snapped, picking up her wand and waving it about, securing her wild curls into a ponytail.

"I'll hold my breath," Pansy said, laughing when Hermione slapped her on the thigh. She was soon silenced when a soft, warm mouth descended upon her pussy, Hermione's wet tongue sliding slowly through her folds before gently flicking out against her clit. Pansy's breath caught and she wriggled her hips against the touch, feeling pleasure unfurl in the pit of her stomach. She was about to ask Hermione if she was sure that she hadn't gone down on a girl before when her tongue softly grazed her clitoris again.

Becoming completely wrapped in the delicious sensation between her legs, Pansy slumped back onto the sofa, letting her thighs fall open even more. Hermione used one hand to spread her apart, her soft lips and tongue licking and suckling at the now engorged bud, causing her insides to clench. Just when she was on the verge of screaming, two fingers slowly pressed into her slippery channel, all the while the shockingly adept tongue remaining firmly lapping at her clit.

_Fuck!_ Pansy thought in complete disbelief. Never in her life had she been gone down on with such vigor, and from a complete novice. Hermione was devouring her-literally-to the point that Pansy was gently thrusting her crotch against her mouth, her juices becoming smeared all over the witch's face.

Pansy realized that Hermione had a point. She'd been going so fast at Hermione that it couldn't have been all that great, where Hermione was going at a much slower pace, although her licks held just enough pressure.

Hermione had no experience with going down on another girl, but she knew what _she _liked, and figured that she could best show Pansy by example. Although, it wasn't bad at all. Pansy tasted a bit tangy when she probed her tongue at her entrance. The rest of her was slightly musky, mingled with traces of some expensive perfume that she must have sprayed on her knickers.

Hermione's fingers were soaked to the knuckle with the slippery, pearlescent fluid that continuously flowed from Pansy's pulsating channel. The more Hermione fingered her, the tighter the hot walls clamped down on her.

The worse thing that someone could do was stop right before their partner was about to reach climax, something that made Hermione nearly cuff one of her clueless partners around the ears for. The way Pansy was moaning, grabbing onto the sofa cushions and rolling her hips were sure-fire signs that the witch was about to become unhinged. Steadily licking her clit and fingering her, it wasn't long before Pansy let out a screech that was loud enough to wake the dead, grabbing onto the back of Hermione's head and intently keeping her head in place.

When the last of her moans subsided, she let go of Hermione's hair, the rest of her body falling limply against the sofa.

"Point proven?" Hermione smugly asked, using one finger to wipe her lips as she looked behind her to make sure that the coffee table wear clear before perching on the edge. Pansy's tightly shut eyes finally cracked open, and she lazily lifted one hand to give Hermione the one-finger salute.

"Are you sure you've never done that before?" Pansy breathlessly asked. "Because-_fuck!_"

"I just know what I like," Hermione told her with a small shrug.

"Well, fine then. But I'm going to try again," the witch replied, sounding sure of herself. Pansy then moved from the couch and went back down on her knees, kneeling in front of Hermione who was still sat on her coffee table. She didn't waste any time pushing her thighs apart, yanking on Hermione's hips until she was all the way at the edge.

"_Oh shit!"_ Hermione hissed when Pansy's lips closed back around her clit. She was surprised to find that she had become aroused from going down on Pansy, between her legs growing slick as an oil spill. Pansy immediately lapped up her juices, while treating her sensitive bud to the same broad licks that she'd been given. Within a matter of minutes, Hermione felt her body growing tense, and she was unable to tear her eyes away from the sight of the witch eagerly working her entire mouth over her.

Hermione continued swearing in her head, amazed that Pansy had taken heed of her instruction. Her skills had even surpassed Draco's, and soon Hermione was writhing against Pansy's face, right on the threshold of her orgasm. Suddenly, Pansy captured the nub between her lips, alternating between firmly sucking and licking, while keeping her fingertips directed against Hermione's g-spot.

The curly-haired witch nearly jacked-knifed off the coffee table, shrieking incoherently as she exploded against the fervently moving fingers, lips, and tongue. Hermione had barely come down from her release when Pansy pushed her to lie flat on the coffee table. Books, spare pieces of parchment, and both girls' wands clattered to the floor, neither witch paying any mind.

Hermione had laughed once when she heard a crude teenager using the phrase 'finger-banging', but now realized that it was an apt expression for what Pansy was doing to her at the moment. While Hermione had to direct Pansy on how she liked being eaten, the witch obviously knew what to do with her fingers, as she now had three slim digits buried knuckle-deep inside her.

Grabbing onto the flat, wooden edges of her coffee table, Hermione fought to catch her breath, to at least try and stop screaming her daft head off, but _damn_! She thought. Pansy was relentlessly thrusting her fingers into her throbbing cunt, the sound of her sodden flesh being manipulated quite loud in her ears. But it felt entirely too good, and Hermione didn't care; all she knew was that she needed to come again.

Pansy made her explode three more times, Hermione's voice growing higher and more shrill with each release. She was a quivering mess atop her coffee table, and wanted to beg off and push the reared-up witch away, but Pansy held onto her left thigh, told Hermione to shut her mouth, and resumed fingering her.

Hermione would later on muse upon the fact that the slim witch was stronger than she looked, judging by the way she kept a tight hold on her thigh. But at the moment all she could focus on was the warm tongue that was gently lapping against her clit again, the touch light enough to not agitate the overly-sensitive bud. Pansy then shifted her fingers inside Hermione, letting two of her knuckles brush against a spot that made Hermione lose her breath. Her movements slowed down but were still fruitful, as Hermione began grinding out swears between clenched teeth, her fingers tightening its grasp on the coffee table.

Without warning, Pansy began moving her hand faster, pulling shrieks and epithets from Hermione that she would have taken as insults had they been used at any other time. Hermione then let out a long, loud moan before promptly erupting all over the thrusting hand and coffee table. Her inner thighs even managed to take a hit of the fluid that literally poured from her. Only when Pansy literally and figuratively milked every last drop out of Hermione, did she slowly withdraw her hand from the trembling witch's body.

Breathing hard and trying to collect herself, it was a while before Hermione opened her eyes, staring up at her white ceiling before managing to doggedly push herself upright

"You bitch!" Hermione spat, shooting daggers at her friend, who was now calmly perched on the sofa.

"I've been called worse," Pansy smoothly replied, slipping her right index finger into her mouth and pulling it out with a _pop._ "You know, you taste rather good. Wish I'd done that a long time ago."

"You-what the hell, Pansy, did you really not know what you were doing before, or was that a ploy to get you to have your way with me?"

"Hmmm, I'll guess you'll never know," she replied complacently.

"Fucking slippery Slytherins," Hermione chuckled. "Shrewd little shits, the lot of you!"

"Oh, come now, Hermione! Why all the tawdry language? You enjoyed that; the evidence is right there on the coffee table."

Hermione shifted her weight slightly, cringing when she felt a puddle beneath her naked bum. Standing up and ignoring the cool draft on her damp skin, Hermione snatched her wand up from the floor and cast a drying charm on everything. Pansy continued lounging on her sofa, looking up at Hermione with a most satisfied cat-that-ate-the-canary grin on her face. Only it wasn't a canary she ate; it was Hermione, and she'd done a damn good job at it, too.

"You didn't _really _think I would allow you to show me up, did you?" Pansy drawled, brushing her long dark hair back over one slender shoulder. "Sorry, but there's no way in hell."

"First off-screw you. Second, I'm going to get a glass of water-"

"Yes, I imagine your throat is parched from all of that screaming you were doing-"

"_Shut up, Parkinson_. As I was saying, we are far from being done. So you might as well escort yourself to my bedroom, because I'll be damned if I'm going to let you leave my house with that smug look on your face."

Pansy raised an eyebrow, yet calmly bent to retrieve her trousers, knickers and wand, switching her hips back and forth as she began making her way to Hermione's bedroom.

"If you want to tangle with a Slytherin, by all means, I'll oblige you-just don't say that you haven't been warned," she offered before strolling down the hallway, humming a light tune.

Hermione smirked and shook her head as Pansy walked off. Pansy might have won that first round, she would admit. As for the second...Hermione chucked to herself, thinking that she hadn't been called a bookworm and know-it-all for nothing. She finally learned that she didn't have to spout every bit of knowledge that had been stuffed inside her head, and little did Pansy Parkinson know, but she was going to be in for a long night.

xx


End file.
